Under the window of a meadow I fell
Into the metal rung doorway
which hung over sea tides swell
Over dreams forgotten and little things rotten
I heard the whispery memories calling to me
And the old owl sat upon rafters of questions
Mirroring things I could barely hope to see…

Yet I peered and I peered into yesteryears evening tides query
Offering some dancing and fiddlers of folly and gleeful merry
Passing the bread of fortitude’s tease sneering with jimsons poisonous please
We look further and further over our shoulders running with the wind
But never to ever fall deeper or deeper than another man who has sinned…

We tell stories of our laughter and all the things which matter
To us mostly the ghostly and the moistly set lips all a chatter
Of a kiss we kiss to miss as we express of simplistic ulterior bliss
Twisting and turning, or churning and all the things we are forever yearning…

(Written: August 6th, 2010 3:01 p/m)
© Poetess Victoria L. McColley